


The Reaper Squad (almost) Pulls a Boner

by StellarWing, Tanacetum, Waywardwitchcat



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Gore, There's just a lot of necromancy and stuff okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-15 10:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16061354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarWing/pseuds/StellarWing, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanacetum/pseuds/Tanacetum, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywardwitchcat/pseuds/Waywardwitchcat
Summary: We All Love Easy Days at Work, or:Kravitz really WAS trying to give them a softie first mission





	1. In Which Lup Spellchecks The Manual

Lup leans back in her chair, feet up on the oversized ebony desk, flipping through the  _Official Reaper Writings_ , which is an employee handbook with more e’s than necessary. She’s already read it twice, then gone through a third time and made notes on updating the spelling and grammar, and still the phrase “thou shalt not suffyre a lyche to live’ is making her giggle once she added an extra ‘e’ to ‘lyche’.

Slamming it shut, she looks across the desk at Barry, who seems much more engrossed in his book than she is. “Baaaaaabe, I’m boooooooorred...”

"Hi bored, I'm Barry," he says, after double-checking to confirm that the desk's wide enough that he's outside easy smacking range. "Dunno what you want me to do about it, honey. You could get different reading material."

Barry only gave the employee handbook a cursory skim. It would be silly for both him and Lup to read it when he can just ask her or Kravitz any questions. The Raven Queen's laws seem pretty straightforward: don't screw with souls, and especially don’t bar their entry to her realm when they’re due. No problem. Instead of the handbook, he's reading some old case notes on a necromancy circle that Kravitz busted last century. Ostensibly to learn about field protocol. Half the margin's taken up by Barry’s attempts to piece together what the goal of their ritual probably was from Kravitz's disjointed account and creative spelling.

Lup snaps a finger, conjuring a red mage hand to flick at Barry’s ear. “Krav won’t let me look at the interesting stuff right now, just the beginner shit.” Huffing, she sprawls across the desk, poking at a folder with black, gothic writing across it. “I’m pretty sure I can’t get any more corrupted, so why not let me look at some cool-ass demon summons or whatever.”

"There’s no way Kravitz remembers what the hell he's put in all these files," Barry says absently, grinning and ducking away from further ear-flicks. "Just look through the crap piled in the unlabeled cabinets until something jumps out at you." He hasn't managed to find any demon summonings yet; seems like the necromancers in this report were trying for a True Resurrection of their long-dead leader cult leader when they didn't have her corpse. They were murdering women who resembled her to stitch together some kind of homunculus-surrogate and channeling magic from artifacts she'd imbued to imprint the body with enough of a signature to attract her soul. Fascinating stuff. Barry wonders if it would've worked, had the Grim Reaper not turned up to destroy their ritual circles. Kravitz didn't even have the courtesy to document their key runes for posterity.

Lup’s ears flick up in interest and she dismisses the mage hand, since Barry made up for his terrible dad joke (gods she loves him, the ass). Slinging her feet off the desk, she glances towards the giant spooky door that matches the whole aesthetic of the Eternal Stockade, but is super hard to open if you don’t want to swing it wide for a dramatic entrance. “Think I can find one before Skeletor comes back with that assignment he keeps promising?”

Barry shrugs. "If he catches you, you could just say you're organizing them? Except, uh, then he might actually make us do that." He doubts Kravitz will be back anytime soon, so he toes off his shoes and kicks his socked feet up on the desk. Lup grins at him fondly and hops off her chair to saunter towards the wall of filing cabinets.

Like everything they truly interact with in the Stockade, the cabinets have a sense of being more Real than the room they are standing in. Lup drags a finger along the drawers as she walks past them, eyeing the dates and looking for one that speaks to her. Halfway down the wall, she hooks her finger through a handle and yanks it open. The drawer slides easily, unfolding several feet out until friction slows it to a halt.

Ears up in interest, Lup shuffles through the files, glancing at the front of each, decoding some of the truly terrible writing that doesn’t seem to all be Kravitz’s for one that seems interesting. She grabs a few, then is struck by a thought and pulls the drawer again.

It keeps unfolding out of the wall, now about five solid feet of files. Curious, Lup keeps pulling and the drawer keeps coming.

Well, now it’s just a matter of science to see when it ends...

The door to the room suddenly swings open and Kravitz steps through, looking down at a scroll in his hands. "My meeting with the Raven Queen just concluded, and I believe we found something for you. Thank you for your—"

And then he finally looks up at the scene before him: Barry with his shoes off and his feet on Kravitz's desk, Lup holding one end of a filing cabinet pulled to the opposite end of the room, and neither one of them even looking in the direction of the very important handbooks he left for them to read.

"—patience," Kravitz finishes with a sigh. "Could you two at least  _pretend_ to care about the rules?"

"We're here, aren't we?" Barry quips, wiggling his toes before swinging his feet off the desk. He crosses his ankles and makes no move to put his shoes back on. If they're in for a boring briefing then he's at least going to be comfy. There's no way the Raven Queen's ready to assign them to something interesting. He'd almost rather organize the filing cabinets after all, now that Lup's discovered they've got some kind of complex spatial extension. "Didn't think we’d see you for another couple of hours, boss."

Kravitz should have known better than to expect the two of them to fall in line when he walked in, but a small hope had been there that was now thoroughly dashed. "It's a good thing I’m early, then. You two probably would have dismantled this place by the time I was back."

“Hey Ghost Rider!” Lup calls from the wall, where she’s making a mark and conjuring a piece of string to tape down on it, “so your handwriting isn’t the worst in here and I was wrong!”

She starts running, shoving the drawer ahead of her and letting her string play out behind her. It does not rattle with as much noise as she expects, but it’s not ghostly silent either; more of a metallic humming in protest.

Kravitz looks on in bewilderment. "What are you even trying to- You know what? Never mind. We have actual business to attend to."

He lays the scroll onto the desk, revealing a map with notes scrawled around the edges in his  _perfectly legible_ handwriting, thank you. "Our Queen’s granted me a mission for you. Well, for us, but I'm mostly being sent to show you how it's done." There is unmistakable pride in his voice. "There's a new necromantic cult that popped up near the edge of the Felicity Wilds. Spell circles, living sacrifices, the usual. They're incredibly sloppy though; they've done nothing to cover their tracks and are clearly inexperienced. It shouldn't take us more than an hour to take them down and get it all cleaned up."

Barry swivels from Lup's efforts with the filing cabinets to glance at Kravitz's map. Maybe Kravitz's ability to sound cheerful about what must be his eleven millionth takedown of a fledgling necromancy cult was also granted by their Queen. Barry's bored on his behalf. "Is this a scared-straight deal, or are we taking all these kids to Ghost Jail?"

"What we do with them will depend on what we see when we get there. If it's all small-scale stuff and they're sufficiently apologetic we can let them off with a very stern warning, but if there's anything especially abhorrent, such as murdering unwilling sacrifices, then it's straight to the Stockade with them."

Lup slams the drawer shut and leans down to make a mark on her string. When she’s satisfied it’s dark enough she walks to the desk while rolling it up. “Follow-up question; are accents required? Because I’ve been working on one and she has a whole backstory to go with it.”

Kravitz can't help but feel Lup is making fun of him but he still smiles at her. "Not required, but encouraged. Sometimes the job can be rough, and it can help to separate your work-self from who you are in private. Also, it's fun."

"Alright, so—check out their lair, figure out what they've been up to, bust 'em up, and do all that with uh, accents?" Barry says. This feels like a small-time community theatre production: Rout of the Necromancers, weekends only, tickets $8 at the door. He affects his best rendition of a Fantasy Southern accent, copied inexpertly from Taako's right-hand woman. "How's this, y'all?"

Kravitz manages to awkwardly disguise his laugh with a cough. "It's... a start. I'm sure as time goes on you'll settle into something that works for you."

Lup pats Barry’s cheek, grinning, “We’ll workshop it, babe, don’t worry.” Her gaze zeroes on Kravitz and she smiles, sharp and dangerous. “So how do we start, boss man?”

"Given our foe's inexperience, we shouldn't need an elaborate plan. Make a suitably dramatic entrance, subdue anyone who turns violent, then assess the extent of the damage. We'll need to keep an eye out for runners. We don't want any of them escaping until we've decided what their punishment will be."

Barry starts shuffling his shoes back on. "So this'll take—uh, half an hour? And then what's the rest of our day look like? More orientation reading?"

“And what’s the aesthetic for ‘dramatic entrance’? Because I can do a mean flash-bang-of-smoke appearance.” Lup claps her hands, practically jumping up and down with excitement.

Kravitz taps his fingers on the desk as he thinks. "I usually go for a creepier effect, things like billowing black smoke and cawing ravens to match the aesthetic. Something flashier could work though, startle them into inaction. I'd be willing to try it out."

"Sure, we can do creepy," Barry says, agreeable and maybe a little ominous. Frankly Kravitz could do with some pointers, from what Barry's seen of his act. He closes the folder he was reading before standing to link his elbow with Lup's. "Lead the way, honey."

Lup dips down to kiss Barry's head before raising her fingers to snap them. A wave of red light ripples over her, changing her cutoffs and tank top to a long flowing red cloak trimmed with raven feathers. The red and black corset and black fishnets are maybe not quite dress code, but she's sure the knee high leather boots make up for it. Kravitz’s raised eyebrows belie that, but when he opens his mouth to say something he changes his mind at the last moment. Her outfit choice, while extraordinarily unconventional, isn’t technically against any rules.

Reaching out with her scythe, she tugs her arm free. "Gonna need both my hands for this spell, babe."

Barry steps back and sizes up her outfit appreciatively. Lup's a gorgeous force of nature and the necromancers won't know what hit them. He snaps his fingers too, copying the motion and her cloak. He turns his jeans black as an afterthought. "Yes ma'am. You're gonna knock 'em dead."

Lup blows Barry a kiss, winks at Kravitz, and spins her scythe dramatically as she cuts a hole through the fabric of reality.

It happens fast—Lup knows how to do that well enough. A combo of fireball, dancing lights, and prestidigitation for noise makes a  _great_ flashy entrance. She steps through the dissipating flames in the middle of the scrambling cultists and laughs, high and shrill:

" **How your backyard ritual go, the Smiths?** _Pretty good,_   **it doesn't seem."**

Kravitz is already changing into his usual skeletal form with a ragged black cloak—he has a brand to uphold, after all—as he steps through the portal after Lup, his scythe in one hand and his tome of bounties in the other. Barry slips through after and lurks behind him. He thinks they do a pretty admirable job of not showing how blinded they are by Lup’s fireworks show. Kravitz steps up beside her, opening the tome in front of him with one hand and letting it magically flip to the proper page. He casts a glance at Barry, checking to make sure he’s in position before reading the official declaration of crimes.

Barry had planned to trail in Lup's wake; she's inspiring under a spotlight, while he just gets sweaty and nervous, but Kravitz is watching him. So he casts Arcane Eye in an arc overhead, sending it to float behind the crowd. The invisible eye gives him an excellent view of both Lup and the necromancers. In a fit of inspiration, he sends a flurry of dark shadows scuttling across the ground like creeping rats, weaving among the necromancers before scattering to the perimeter of their group. The illusory shapes resolve into the image of ravens as they settle, cawing soundlessly—but as their throats expand with false breath their feathers part. Fragile ribs and glossy black feathers cradle blood-red eyes in each bird's chest. The eyes open wide, rimmed by weeping pink flesh, and sweep the crowd with riveting gazes.

The necromancers flinch back from Barry’s illusions. He stifles a grin and Lup laughs, sending a pulse of heatless firelight rippling across the ground to flare up under his ravens. The necromancers break into small groups as they back away from the perimeter. Leaning on her scythe, she meets the eyes of those who are gawping at her and smiles with all her teeth.  **“Hello, where is leader?** _We have citizens’ complaints to make_   **about rules breakeeng.”**

Kravitz doesn’t have a chance to express his pleased surprise at Barry's performance and dedication to the aesthetic before a few cultists point to a man wearing a black cloak with silver trim. They drag him to the front of their pack. How quickly they turn on each other, Kravitz thinks with grim amusement.

A phantom wind sends his cloak billowing out behind him dramatically as he raises his book higher and magically projects his voice for all to hear. "Vile cultists, you have knowingly and flagrantly violated the Raven Queen's sacred laws. Do you have anything to say for yourselves?"

“You serve a weakling,” the man in the silver-trimmed robe spits. “She will fall before the dark lord, and he will reward us!” Behind him, one of his underlings steps back from an embarrassing puddle dripping down his leg.

Between Lup's magnificent accent, the walking cliché the necromancers present, and the guy who just pissed himself, Barry's deeply amused. He wonders which 'dark lord' these cultists purport to serve, and whether their supposed master would so much as deign to pick his teeth with their bones. Their leader's stuck his hand in a fold of draping robes behind his back like he’s concealing a weapon. Barry focuses the Arcane Eye to catch a glimpse of a darkened edge that could be a wand or a gothed-out dagger. Not that he stands a chance either way. Most of his underlings look like a stiff breeze would knock them over.

Barry sends his Arcane Eye rotating around the group. There's something niggling in the back of his mind about this scene. Lines of white chalk and rusty, blood-dyed rope cut across the ground around them. The cultists were obviously in the middle of setting up a ritual, but he can't see enough of the shape through their robed legs to guess at its purpose.

Lup tore her portal into the middle of the pack of cultists and sent them scattering. But it looks like none of them put a toe over the outer circle of rope. Not even where there are gaps in Barry's perimeter of illusory ravens. He can think of a few reasons why the entire cult would make sure to stand inside the ritual they were building and he doesn't like any of them. "Uh, guys?" he says in undertone, leaning close to Kravitz's shoulder. "I think we need to move."

Lup's ear twitches back at Barry's voice, rising again to her full height instead of draping on her scythe. " **SO GOOD, your joke**!  _I think we say_ **GOODBYE NOW!!"** Kravitz might not have done the whole reading of their crimes and shit, due process, blah de blah, but if Barry said standing where they were was a Bad Thing she would take that over anything else. Spinning her scythe, she catches the purported leader across the stomach.

Her cut slides cleanly not through his flesh, but through his spirit, yanking his soul out and grabbing it to toss into her portal. It’s a beautiful move, and she takes a moment to admire her own work before swirling her cloak and casting Gust of Wind to push a path outside the ritual circle.

Kravitz surges forward, miffed about not being able to read off their crimes—he has a system, dammit!—but the moment has passed. He snaps the book shut and lets it poof out of existence as he expertly cuts down another cultist and positions himself between his companions and the bulk of their enemies. "Get moving, I'll cover you!"

Barry sprints after Lup, elbowing cultists out of the way as they try to recover their footing. He figures he's bound to trip if he summons his scythe while running. So instead, when he reaches the outer circle, he hooks the toe of his shoe beneath the rope and drags it with him. A few tiny stakes pop out. The ritual's still mostly intact; he switches to the view from his arcane eye, skimming the few runes visible through the melee. "This kind of looks like a summoning, guys!" he shouts. "Lup, can you do fire to this rope? And brace for backlash!"

Lup swings her scythe and catches another cultist by the soul and yanks, almost not quite catching Barry's instruction in her theatrical cackling. "Oh shit, sure thing, babe." Reaching down, she grabs the rope and summons a tongue of flame to run along it; the magic that lashes out at her is nasty, feeling like dripping acid trying to race up her arm. "Holy Shit—!"

With an expert swing of his scythe three more cultists are felled, and Kravitz uses the resulting break in their ranks to bolt backwards after the others. He curses as he sees Lup's failed attempt to break the rope, crying out "Watch yourself!" and intentionally colliding with her as he moves, pushing her back and away from the circle. She stumbles and sticks the butt of her scythe out to catch herself as she retches. Her arms burn and not in the super fun way. She feels like she’d need to wash them for hours to get this sense of rot and spoiled meat off her hands.

This isn't right. These cultists are as weak and easily felled as expected, but they shouldn't have the ability to create such a powerful circle. Kravitz catches the end of his scythe on the rope and tugs, but it doesn't break even against a blade blessed by the Goddess herself. He spits another curse. "Be on your guard, something isn't right!"

Barry finally pushes his panic aside and summons his scythe. Its weight settles in his sweat-slick palms and he hefts it inexpertly. Faced with an actual fight, the realization that he's not prepared for this crashes down on him. The powerful necromantic spells he's relied on are off-limits now that he's in the Raven Queen's employ. Melee combat's never been his strength; it took years of lessons from Magnus before he approached competence with a sword and he's only had weeks to practice with a scythe. He swings at the nearest cultist and barely grazes her shoulder. The Arcane Eye gives him a nauseating tandem image. He sees an aerial view of her drawing a dagger from the sheath at her back as she shrieks in his face. She casts something that pops and fizzes up his arms and bites into his lungs with the metallic abrasion of inhaled gunpowder.

He screws his eyes shut and coughs explosively and his aerial vantage of the cultists resolves. They're not all rushing the reapers. A small knot of them scramble in the center of the circle, bent towards the ground. He steels himself and pulses out a powerful version of Dispel Magic. It sweeps around him, clearing his lungs. The Arcane Eye—and hopefully any bolstering magic the cultists laid—fades out of existence. The cultist stabs at him him and he manages to sweep his scythe through her chest. The blade comes free with her soul balanced on its curve like an egg yolk on a spoon. Barry tosses it through a portal. By the time her limp body falls another cultist has already rushed forward to take her place.

The wave of Barry’s magic is a familiar comfort, running up Lup’s arms and pushing back at the badbadbadbad feeling worming its way into her bones, enough so all that’s left is a lingering sense of ooze. So that’s a later problem. Gripping her scythe, she glances around for the next attacker and spots the knotted up group of cultists in the center. Ugh, going after them would mean crossing the ropes, and there’s nothing she wants to do less, also? Probably a bad plan.

As she steps forward to help with the crowd going after Kravitz and Barry, the huddled knot pulls back and turns outward. The one closest to her catches her stare and smiles the utterly certain smile of a fanatic. She licks dry, brittle lips and screams:  **“ALL HAIL THE PRINCE OF CORRUPTION!”**

So saying, she and her fellows pull their robes aside and drag a daggeracrosstheirbellyholyfuckwhattheshit—

As they fall, twitching and screaming, Lup’s eyes are dragged down with them and see the rope circle has connecting lines running to the center, and this motherfucker is spilling their- is spilling all over it. “Hey Kravitz, check this shit out—”

Kravitz watches with mounting horror as the blood from the fallen cultist spreads throughout the circle with unnatural speed and direction. "No no no  _shit!"_ He gathers energy from his bond with the Raven Queen into his hand and sends a blast of magical force into the cultists huddled in the circle, but it's too little too late. They collapse lifeless onto the ground with twisted grins on their faces, dying with the knowledge that they succeeded. "Get further back! Something's comin' outta that circle and I don't know what!"

"Gods damn it, they were trying to die!" Barry shouts,  _far_ too late. He can't see, can't be sure, but it's entirely possible that the ritual was prepared to accept any death within the circle. He wants to check on the woman he felled and see whether her soul-shorn corpse is leaking power. Instead he stumbles back to watch the ropes wick bile and blood away from the disemboweled cultist. The fibers look like they're melting into the ground, smeared red and brown and then impossible greens, violets, pinks; a coruscation of unnatural colors that sear afterimages across his vision and blur into streaks, overlaying dirt and sky on some intangible axis.

The circle pulses, a red-green-black heartbeat that sheds waves of moist heat impregnated with the stench of bile. Underneath, the ground smears to mud. Forks of arcane power burst upwards, bristling into innumerable tiny fractals like lightning. They hang in the air, stretch soft and round, and Barry thinks capillaries instead.

White as paper, a hand extends from the forest and taps one slim finger on a fragile branch of power. The lightning bursts into shimmering droplets. A smell like cooked blood and a tang of meat wafts outwards, disturbingly mouth-watering, as the droplets fall in a curtain of mist and reveal the creature standing at the center of the ritual. Barry’s eyes lock on a gracious smile. The figure wades forward, ankle-deep in the gore that remains of the cultists. His face is startlingly human—beautiful, even. A strong jawbone over slim shoulders, lines of muscled belly exposed by draping fabric. But his skin is unnaturally pale, as if carved from alabaster, and glistens with a damp sheen.

There's nothing remaining of the ritual to scrutinize. Barry assumes  _demon_ anyway, thinking of Lup's earlier comment. This figure doesn't match any of his expectations, but he's seen a hundred worlds' worth of strangeness. The demon-because while this figure has no horns or teeth or wings as would be expected, there’s no better word for them—takes in the ritual-turned-abattoir, rotating slowly in place. "I'm afraid my master's not available to answer your call," he says, addressing empty air with a quirked smile. Then he turns to the reapers.

“Ten out of ten entrance, my man.” Lup leans against her scythe in pretend nonchalance—mostly her arms just  _hurt._ “Wasn’t too thrilled with the whole...bile...sitch...but you brought it around nicely, and really stuck the landing on that one.”

Her eyes flick to the circle, where the remains of what used to be corpses lay, and back to their de-souled bounties, considering. She can’t smell or feel any other magical subtleties under the demon rot, but considering the cultists went for belly cuts, she suspects the manner of death was as important as the death itself. “Hey, So we’re super sorry about this, I know I always hate wrong numbers, but I don’t suppose you could just turn around and go back to, uh, whatever it is demons do on their own plane?”

Kravitz winces, wishing she would have let him get the first word in so he could draw the demon’s attention. His cool and collected facade holds fast, but internally he’s fighting a rapidly building panic. He has no idea who this new enemy is or what their capabilities are. They’ve implied they’re only a subject of whoever the cultists tried to summon though, so hopefully their power will be less than what the complexity of the circle suggests.

Nothing to do for it now but back Lup up, so...fuck. He takes a step forward, scythe held at the ready. "Really now, your followers are all dead anyhow. Might as well make this easier for all of us and go on home."

The demon approaches at a saunter. He visibly considers Kravitz's words, casting his gaze to his feet. For a long moment, pearlescent slime trickles down his body to the pooled gore, still stubbornly refusing to sink into the ground. When he takes his next step the slime eddies and swirls atop congealing blood, casting a sheen like slick oil but with the reflectiveness of a mirror. Barry catches the image of the sun high overhead. The angle of Kravitz's scythe cuts it through with shadow. He covertly adjusts his grip on his scythe to match Kravitz's, steadying himself.

"Though you've divined my origin, I don't believe we're acquainted," the demon says, nodding cordially at Lup. "Agents of the Raven Queen, I presume?  _Three_ of you here to handle such refuse as these would-be followers? Well, we all love easy days at work." He smiles genially, taking in the feathers of Kravitz's cloak and the faint tremor in Barry's hands. Then he extends a bare arm, slowly rolling the elbow back. Slime dribbles down into the meaty pool of gore and a perfect, circular ripple spreads. Fat gobs of red spring into the air and fall again, like a wet drumskin vibrating after a strike. Barry and Lup's ears pop.

"My name is Verin," the demon says, "and these 'followers' are most useful to me dead." He sweeps his arm forward and a wave of filth rises to drown the reapers, smoking and hissing with the sharp bite of acid.

Lup had been pretty much expecting an attack of some kind. Poncey demons walking slowly and monologuing always got around to attacking as soon as they thought they'd scared you enough. So as Verin sweeps his arm, Lup's nerves twang and she steps forward and channels a pyroburst to break the wave in front of the three of them.

It's....well, they don't get caked in acid gore, and that's the important part. Barry chokes when the steam from the boiled muck hits him. Flecks pepper his glasses as they fog over. A taste like the inside of his tannery coats his tongue. The air is thick with the acrid stench of charred gore. Kravitz is immensely thankful his senses are dulled in his skeletal form. He charges forward and takes a swing at Verin before quickly leaping back, a defensive blow meant to test the demon without the expectation of damage. His strike does land, but it leaves hardly a scratch. Verin looks at him like he's a mildly annoying fly buzzing around his head. It's humiliating, and Kravitz is not a fan.

Barry casts a silent rush of power towards Verin, meant to sink into his eyes and blind him. The magic skitters over his face like water across a hot pan. He shoots Barry a sardonic, heavy-lidded look and then a bolt of fizzing slime. Barry manages to dodge only by falling to one knee. Verin's still fixated on him and Lup when he rolls back to his feet, brushing off Kravitz thoughtlessly. "I'm honestly pleased to meet you both. I quite enjoyed your Story. It's a shame that the Raven Queen seems to have hooked her claws into you."

So that was two attacks with no effect. Lup isn’t feeling terrific about her chances, but it’s always a great sign when they’re chatty. Chatty can be distracted. “Aw, a fan! Always nice to meet you guys—and well, you know how it is...” she channels a fireball and sends it curving towards him, “...Our resumé’s a MESS after a century, gotta pick up the gigs with good bennies where we can!”

The fireball hits, there’s the smell of burning compost, and Verin is standing there, unhurt and annoyed. So that’s three for three, now...

Kravitz really shouldn't be offended that this demon trying to kill them is more interested in talking to Lup and Barry than the literal Grim Reaper, but, well, here he is. There's no time for petty jealousy though: they need to stay on their guard. Verin is laughing now, mouth twisted up into a grin. "From everything I heard, I expected...more."

Kravitz launches himself at Verin again, wanting to distract him if nothing else, but the blade of his scythe slides harmlessly off his slimy exterior.

This is bad. This is  _bad._

Verin turns a disgusted look at Kravitz and a slow smile spread across his face. “Well, if you’re all going to waste my time like this...“ He turns and points a finger at Lup. “About that resumé, dear—I think you could have a future with my employer.”

Lup opens her mouth to reply and falters, her mind spinning- no, buzzing. It feels like there’s a vice against her temples as her vision goes fuzzy she stumbles...

...and straightens, turning to Barry and swinging the butt of her scythe at him, aiming a hard strike to his kidneys. It only catches in the baggy folds of Barry's cloak, but he wastes a moment gaping before he springs forward, scrambling to grab the butt of her scythe. It slides free of his grip. He doesn't have to think about why she'd ever attack him, there's only one possible explanation: "Kravitz! She's charmed!"

Kravitz curses as he glances back at them. They can't win this fight, not like this. He lets his scythe disappear before dashing over and grappling Lup from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. He's not happy about having to use the supernatural strength his Goddess blessed him with against his allies, but the alternatives are worse. "Barry, cut us a portal out of here!"

"You got it, boss!" Barry raises his scythe, hands steadied by urgency for the first time since the fight started. The blade slides downward through empty space and leaves a dim gash in its wake. It sucks in air and opens like a tearing wound. Barry makes another slice at the top, enlarging the portal into a rough triangle for Kravitz to haul Lup through.

He doesn't work fast enough. Verin lobs a bolt of green light and catches him across the back. The magic soaks into Barry's robe and burns clear through to his shoulders, hissing dangerously. He grits his teeth against the pain. There's nothing in this world or any other that could stop him from helping Lup. Lup, who’s struggling against Kravitz’s grip, scythe dissolving at her feet. She tries to butt her head back and stomps down with her bespoke boots, but can’t get the leverage necessary to throw him off.

Kravitz winces at the hit Barry took, guilt clawing at his heart. He doesn't want to pass into the portal before making sure Barry gets through, but he can't risk letting go of Lup and he doubts Barry would want him to delay. So he makes a silent prayer to his Goddess and drags Lup through the tear in reality, relieved to see the familiar sight of shimmering souls in a beautiful lake. Verin would have to be a fool to follow them into the Astral Plane and Kravitz is almost certain he's dangerously intelligent.

Verin waves goodbye, the bastard. There's no telling what he'll get up to on the prime material plane, but Lup is Barry's first concern. He runs after Kravitz and tugs the edges of the portal shut behind them.


	2. In Which Kravitz Steals a Sword

Lup stops struggling and blinks twice as soon as the portal slams shut behind them. Panic washes over her face.

The slide of Barry’s robe and shirt across his shoulders is agonizing. He can feel his flesh bubbling. He lets his cape vanish, shedding some of the acid, but his sodden shirt's still pressed across his back. A problem for later. "Lup—shit, Lup, babe, are you okay?”

“BARRY! What the fuck am I okay, what about you?” She wrenches away from Kravitz to reach for Barry, hissing as she sees the acid-eaten shirt. “Fuck, I’m gonna flay that bastard!”

Kravitz has a sour taste in his mouth as he watches her fuss over Barry. This is his fault. This is his fault, he was supposed to be training them, looking out for them both as employees and as Taako's family, but instead he put them in a ludicrously dangerous situation and got Barry badly burned. "The situation is... clearly far more serious than I thought. I'm truly sorry for bringing you into this. Stay here and recover, or head home if you'd prefer. I'll find something more suitable for you once Verin is taken care of."

"Like hell are you leaving us behind," Barry says. He meets Lup's grasping hand with his own and squeezes it. He'd like nothing better than to hug her, but the last thing they need is for anyone else to be exposed to Verin's acid. "I'm fine, I just—hope the astral plane has safety showers." He finally spares a moment to peel his shirt up. The skin across his shoulders is inflamed, an angry red expanse pocked by small blisters. He tosses the shirt away and wipes his hand on his jeans.

"Yeah, what the fuck, Kravitz? It didn't look like you could do much better on your own, anyway. We need a plan." Lup leans around Barry's back, clicking her tongue uneasily. "I know it's the Sea of Souls and all, but that's not the water we need right now. You got a first aid station around here, Boss Man?"

Kravitz wants to object, but their highest priority is taking care of Barry's injury. He silently curses himself for not focusing on that first. He's not used to working with the living. "I'm sorry there isn't, everyone else who comes to the Astral Plane is...beyond the help of a first aid station. I can make you a portal but, where to? Uh, does it matter if it's fresh or saltwater...?"

"Either's good," Barry says.

"Fresh fucking water, you dingus." Lup wraps an arm around Barry’s lower back and nods at Kravitz. "Aim for our backyard, maybe? I can grab the hose."

"Yes. Right. Of course." Kravitz hastily summons his scythe and cuts open a portal to Lup and Barry's backward, standing awkwardly beside it as she helps him through. Now that they're not fighting death criminals, he is entirely out of his element.

A couple minutes later, Mrs.-Next-Door wanders over and spots Barry, shirtless, getting hosed off by his wife in their backyard while the grim reaper looks on. It's her pinched expression that makes him wonder whether he should've hopped in the shower. Kravitz puts his skin back on and waves awkwardly, feeling foolish for it when she pointedly looks away. Oh well, that's what he gets for trying to be friendly.

They're losing crucial time, with Barry having to sit still while Lup smears aloe across his shoulders. He sort of can't wait to be dead again. Permanent bodies are so inconvenient. Every time a breeze brushes his skin his shoulders flare with hot pain. He pops some Fantasy Advil in anticipation of how much worse it's going to hurt when he needs to swing his scythe.

With a clean pair of jeans and a blanket for his lap, Barry heads inside and stops by a bookcase to pull out some reference material—ow—and sets up for an impromptu meeting around the coffee table. He's shirtless, waiting for the aloe to dry. A drop of water running from his hair and down his back feels like a claw dug into his skin. "I—I hate this guy?" he says, to open the discussion. "Like, I really hate this guy. Kravitz, do you know who the hell he is?"

Kravitz settles on the far end of the couch and nods. "I had some time to think about it while you were being...hosed, and I think I figured it out. Do you remember him mentioning he had a master? If he's who I suspect, that master is a demon know as Graz'zt, who's sometimes called the Prince of Pleasure for um, the exact reasons you might guess someone would be called that. I don't know much about Verin himself, but I imagine his capabilities are similar to his master's."

Taking one of Barry’s reference books, Lup flips through it to the index. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and it’ll be less though. Hey, does he promise an afterlife full of orgies or something? Cause those cultists didn’t, uh, didn’t look too ready to bone down afterward.” Finding the name she wants, she looks up the page number and runs a finger down it. “Orgies, debauchery, enslavement...yeah got that....oh that’s a great way to get a kidney infection, wow.”

"This is the worst day," Barry proclaims. "I can't believe there's more than one world with a—a fuckin' sex-themed demon prince with an orgy cult, god."  He feels like sinking into the cushions and disappearing for a nap, and he can't, because doing so would smear aloe all over the upholstery and sting the hell out of his back. "Demons here don't seem to give a shit about fire, so that's another—another thing that's terrible."

He's honestly starting to worry for Lup. She's so much more dangerous than him, but with his necromancy verboten and her evocation neutered they're running low on options. And this Verin asshole already charmed her once—god, he can't imagine losing her again. He's furious just thinking about it.

Kravitz shoots Barry a wary look. "Is this... something you've had experience with before? If the answer is yes, I do not want any details unless you think they'd help us now."

“Nah, that’s deffo a story you want to ask Taako, not us.” Lup scowls as she scans the page and shoves it over to Kravitz.

He taps the table as he thinks, looking over Lup's shoulder at the book. "Mental effects seem to be his specialty: we'll need something to guard us against that. Physical attacks didn't have much of an effect, so we may have to rely on magic. Well, non-fire magic."

"I don't think illusion magic is—is gonna do shit for us," Barry says, wincing as he leans forward to flip a grimoire open. 'Graz'zt’ turns out to be spelled with two z's and an apostrophe, which is really just stupid. "He didn't even react to my eyeball ravens, and I can't imagine him specializing in mental fuckery and not having Truesight."

Lup taps a finger against her teeth, ears flicked low. “I can do air and earth spells, but I’m rusty. Water is pretty much fuckin’ nope right now. So does Bird Mom grant us any bonuses against psychic attacks? Or is that something we need to ask for special.”

"As the Raven Queen's subjects we do get certain protections, yes, but you will need to learn to channel Her power to take advantage of them. Once you've had enough practice it becomes second nature, but starting out it will take some concentration." Kravitz is tempted to admonish Lup for her irreverent nickname for their Goddess, but they simply don't have time. He's sure she'll give him another opportunity for the lesson later. "My first scythe attack did strike him. I think we could hurt him with a hard enough hit. Or with a properly enchanted weapon, perhaps?"

Lup snorts, leaning back against the couch and rubbing her hands through her hair. “Chances of borrowing Magnus’s—sorry, Taako’s—ridiculously OP sword for this?” She waves a hand. “It does twenty damage if you miss, even...”

Fuming, Barry pages through his grimoire, barely skimming dozens of pages about this Graz’zt guy's perpetual feuding with other demon lords. He doesn't give a damn about their spats. When he finally finds some helpful information he jabs his finger at the page and reads, "...For his embrace is poisonous to soul and mind and body, and it is this affinity with poison that spreads his corruptive madness. No assassin's weapon may touch him, as he is proof against the blade and its venom.”

Barry shifts uncomfortably on the couch and sighs, wishing he could lean back. “So—" he continues, dropping the scholarly tone he affected, "I dunno if the Flaming, Poisoning....Raging? Was it 'Raging'?—sword of, of fuckin' doom is our best bet here, but it's probably worth a try? It's definitely a magic weapon, so it's gotta do something. I can't imagine Verin's as powerful as his boss when he like, serves him. Which is good, cos this entire fucking page is about how impossible Graz'zt is to hurt." He's refusing to twist his tongue on Graz'zt's name, stubbornly pronouncing it as "grass". Rhymes with "ass".

"Taako has quite a few magic items lying around the house too. I once found a powerful ring shoved in the back of the silverware drawer." Kravitz shakes his head at the thought of his ridiculous boyfriend, but there's an impossibly fond smile on his face as he does. "I don't think he would mind us borrowing something, as long as we bring it back. Though actually finding where he stashed it is another thing entirely."

“He’d better not mind, he still hasn’t returned, like, three of my skirts.”  Lup drums her fingers on the table. “Babe, does it say anything about what hurts him?”

"This doesn't say anything about Verin at all," Barry says, still flipping through pages. "Apparently Graz'zt's usual retinue is, uh, sexy lady demons. Succubi, lamia—that kind of thing. But there's—there's no reason to think Verin was lying about serving Graz'zt, and with how demon summoning circles are constructed here—like, if they weren't linked, Verin wouldn't have been able to come through."

“Fuck, why couldn’t have any of THEM turned up instead...” Lup blows a raspberry and tilts her head in thought.

Barry pushes his glasses up his nose and pulls the grimoire into his lap. Hunching over the coffee table tweaked his burnt skin. He thinks he might've felt a blister pop—yuck—but there's no way he's taking time to check when Verin could be eating innocent people or something right now. "You know, I bet all that slime doesn't hold up to ice well," he says. "He was just—just glopped in the stuff. Plus he seemed to sling it around whenever he cast at us. He's gotta slow down if we, uh, freeze it, right?”

"That's a good idea,” Kravitz says. “It's not my strong suit, but I do have a few ice spells in my repertoire. Magnus doesn't happen to have a Freezing Poisoning Raging Sword of Doom, does he? Or anything ice-enchanted, really."

Lup snaps her fingers and summons a tongue of flame, absently juggling it between her hands. “Nah, one crime against nature sword is enough. I think Taako has that Ring of Frost thingy somewhere...I can’t stress how badly out of practice I am with cold spells...buuuut I might...have better luck with actually pulling heat out of him instead of generating cold?”

Barry snaps his book closed and raps his fingers against the cover. "Lucretia basically gave Merle this ring that changes spell effects based on the name of the spell. I can't even describe how, like, how fuckin' bonkers that is. He complained when I tried to borrow it for research, but he can't say we don't really 'need' it now. And I'm gonna get that talking owl thing off him while I'm at it. It's got one charge of casting whatever spell you feel like per day."

Lucretia de facto gave the boys a lot of arcane artifacts during that year they spent on her moonbase. While she had them mind-wiped and hunting relics for her under the pretension that he was the bad guy. She kept everyone left in his family close, treated Davenport like a servant, and had the gall to try and be nice about it. The only reason he didn't fly apart when faced with the boys' distrust is because nothing could ever hurt as much as losing Lup. So if he wants some of Lucretia's insane enchanted objects to defeat a demon, he's gonna fucking borrow them.

"...Do you think the three of them even realize how extraordinary it is that they have all these magical artifacts? They certainly don't seem to treat them with much reverence." Sometimes Kravitz forgets how truly spectacular the lot of them are. "It sounds like we're decided, we need to connect with Taako, Merle, and Magnus, and see what tools they have for us to borrow."

Lup huffs a breath. “I bet they don’t realize, really; a bunch of them are from the Starblaster, and we just kinda...pushed shit wherever we could store it after a while.” She pulls out her stone of farspeech, pressing for one of her speed dial frequencies. “Taako! I need that frosty ring you have, where’d you put it?” Her ears prick up as she listens. “Yeah, cool, thanks babe, we’re probably doing dinner at like...seven tonight? See ya then.”

Hanging up, she bounces off the couch, summoning her scythe. “Shit, you already told me where it was, Krav, I bet I could have taken it for a week before he noticed—“

Swinging her scythe in a small arc, she pushes a window of space apart and sticks her head through, into Taako and Kravitz’s kitchen. Rattling cutlery sounds from the portal, and she pulls back with a ring, closing the gap behind her. “Babe, ten silver says Merle keeps his ring and the owl-thing stacked up under his clothes chair.”

"No bet," Barry says. He decides to live dangerously and tears a portal directly into Merle's bedroom. It's empty, mercifully. Every second they're away from the battlefield leaves Verin unchecked and it's not worth it to him to waste time bargaining. Also, Merle likes to take naps in the nude.

The owl and several enchanted items Barry can't identify are indeed under the chair Merle piles with his 'clean-enough' clothing. Almost every other surface in his room—including the mattress—is covered with flowering vines trailing from the potted plants on either side of his bed. Barry stalwartly refuses to think about that.

The vanity's surface is sticky where the vines rest and lightly fuzzed with lint and loose beard hair. Gross. Leaves tangle thickly on either side of the mirror. Merle has wedged pens and sunglasses and post-it notes and a hairbrush in between them. Barry winces and starts digging through the foliage, feeling way too shirtless for this. But he finds the Ring of the Grammarian wrapped in a tiny tendril almost immediately. He's envied it since Merle showed off casting "Find Fraps" while they were looking for a coffee shop in Goldcliff. Barry's certain he can find better uses for it.

He steps back through the portal feeling slightly dirty, clockwork owl tucked under one arm and the ring on his finger. "Got 'em," he announces. "I'll talk to Merle about it later, when we don't have to worry about the slime demon eating folks, or whatever he's up to."

"I guess I'll stop by Magnus's then...?" Kravitz gets along with Magnus well, but he's not convinced the two of them have enough of a personal connection that it wouldn't be weird for him to show up alone at his house. This is important business, so he pushes aside any lingering social anxiety and rips a portal into the entryway.

Kravitz has been to Magnus's house enough times that he should expect the immediate barking of large, excitable dogs, but he somehow fails to think about it until he's already being swarmed. For a frightening moment it looks like they may be preparing to attack the intruder, but thankfully they recognize Kravitz and instantly turn into giant, furry, slobbering balls of affection.

"Ah, hello there," Kravitz says to the dogs, as he awkwardly pats them while simultaneously trying to push past. "Sorry I can't stay long, I just need to..."

The Flaming Poisoning Raging Sword of Doom is easy to find, hanging above the mantle, and though Verin is likely to be resistant to all of its damage types he figures it's powerful enough it may still be of use. As an afterthought he also grabs the Magnetic Charge; he isn't sure if Verin uses anything metal, but it seems a useful utility item if the proper situation comes up.

Kravitz gives each of the dogs another quick pat before passing back through the portal, having to physically restrain one of them to keep it from following after. Lup’s waiting on the other side, tossing her new ring up and down. When she sees the Sword she snorts and shakes her head. "That thing is a crime against all good fashion sense and the natural order of things. And so am I, so you know I know what I'm talking about." Slipping the ring on, she tilts her head at Barry, still fiddling with the owl. "Decided how Mister Wol is gonna help up, babe?"

"My little buddy here is gonna learn a spell called Icy Rays," Barry says dreamily. He's got a reference book for high-level evocation on the table. The spell he's chosen should take days to master, but the owl's eyes jitter down the lines, scanning and recording them in mere seconds. He flips over the page and pats its brass body affectionately as it continues its memorization routine. "For the record? I want like, six of these things. I think Merle's only used his _once_."

What little ice-themed magic Barry knows is definitely geared more towards preservation than combat. He can chill a drink...or a corpse...with a touch, but using any touch spells on Verin's slimy hide seems like a bad idea. At least he has a couple ranged low- to mid- level evocation spells under his belt: Ice Knife, Ice Wave, and Cone of Cold. "I thought about teaching this guy something like Ice Storm, but, uh, I wasn't sure if he'd hit us too. And it would be cool if I could've prepared Otiluke's Freezing Sphere as well, but that has an impact with like, a 60-foot radius. Icy Rays can hit multiple times but isn't area-of-effect."

Kravitz reminds himself that, while Barry and Lup are new to their assignment as reapers, they have over a century of experience fighting and strategizing. "Good thinking. Avoiding collateral damage is very much preferable." He holds up the sword, already feeling a little ridiculous. It clashes horribly with his aesthetic. "Does one of you happen to be particularly proficient with swords, or should I wield this monstrosity?"

Lup’s ears tilt up and she makes grabbing hands for it. “If I can’t throw fireballs, you bet your bony ass I’m swinging that thing around.” Sticking a foot out, she wiggles her boot and her smile becomes teasing. “Plus, I match better.”

"Be my guest," Kravitz says with a chuckle as he holds the sword out for Lup to take. "It's like it was made for you."

"Definitely don't give it to me. I'm pretty mediocre with swords, actually," Barry says, flicking through his spell list as he fiddles with Merle's ring. "Speaking of outfits, though? I sure wish we'd gotten like, a vial of that acid to experiment with. So we could know what it doesn't melt. It's obviously got magical properties. Though diluting it with water seemed to work fine, at least—too bad we don't have any spells that could do that, between us." The aloe over his back feels dry. He stands up and rolls his shoulders. "I gotta uh, go get us some accessories that don't match your style, babe. P-P-E. I'll be right back."

Maybe Kravitz and Lup are skilled enough with creating magic outfits to make themselves protective gear, but Barry sure isn't. It seems like a good idea to have the real thing anyway. He heads to his basement 'totally not a lab' and starts digging through the coat closet Magnus dragged down there for him. Everyone on the crew had protective goggles fitted for them at one point. Barry still has his and Lup's, as well as a spare set that hopefully fits Kravitz. He grabs rubber gloves for everyone—as thin and light as possible, so their dexterity isn't too impeded—and clunky boots for himself. Lup's long since melted her old pair, so she and Kravitz are gonna have to figure something out.

Once upstairs, he offers up the gear. "Kind of wish we had actual acid splash suits? I can't imagine uh, fighting in them, but this shit stings something awful.” He concentrates for a moment and a plain, poorly-fitted black long sleeve shirt materializes over his chest. It's got the telltale texture of being created by someone who doesn't really understand fabric weaves—oddly slick and smooth, folds stiffer than they should be. It'll have to do. Maybe dispelling the shirt will banish any acid as well.

He snaps the goggles down over his face and pulls at the straps to tighten them. Between his hair sticking up over the band, the shirt, gloves, jeans, rubber boots, and the reaper cape he sends swirling down towards his calves, he looks absolutely ridiculous. That's kind of his personal style at this point. He gives Lup a sheepish smile.

Kravitz is trying very hard to remain professional, but it's extremely difficult with Barry looking like someone's crazy uncle. From his face it's obvious he wants to laugh, though he manages to restrain himself. His voice is pitched slightly higher than normal when he says, "I usually just... don't have skin when I fight. It's much harder to melt through bone. It's not a bad idea to add in some extra protection, though." He takes the gloves and goggles. He doesn't don either of them immediately; he’s not yet in his reaper form and he wants to put off having to wear them as long as possible.

Lup accepts the goggles and gloves, smiling adoringly at Barry before flicking a finger over the gloves and sending a pattern of raven feathers skittering over the rubber. Twirling the goggles turns them a shining white and the lenses reflective, rather than the used look of the red rubber. Snapping them on, she picks up the sword and twirls her cape, smiling evilly. “NEXT time, he invites PAM!”

Barry chokes on a laugh. "Is Pam your persona's name? God, you look great. I love you."

Lup looks glorious. Every inch of her outfit is perfectly tailored, her accessories flawless. She's more radiant than the flaming sword in her hands. Barry's long past feeling inadequate at her side: he never doubts that she loves him. He's happy to hunt Verin looking like he just escaped from a grad school lab by way of a theater's costume storage, so long as he can be by her side.

“The Final Pam, thank you very much,” she says, grinning. “Maybe I can get my own cult going, that would be fun....”

Barry laughs. "We ready to go, Kravitz? Bet we can figure out some way to track Verin if he's run off, between you and me."

Kravitz has to admit he's impressed by Lup's dramatics and dedication to her persona: she looks utterly ridiculous, but somehow manages to pull it off. Something she and her brother have in common, even if their styles tend to differ. He hopes she’s not serious about starting a cult. She has the charisma to pull it off... "Yes, let's put a stop to this before Verin can hurt anyone else. Maybe he...leaves a slime trail we can follow or something. Like a giant snail."

He changes into his reaper form before reluctantly donning the protective equipment, trying not to think about how insane he must look pulling on gloves over skeletal hands and goggles over empty eye sockets that burn with a red fire. Without further ado, he summons his scythe and cuts open a portal to the site of their showdown with Verin.

Lup follows after Kravitz, wincing as the smell of carnage hits her nose. Breathing through her mouth does nothing positive when the air reeks of dark magic and death, so she chokes back the inclination to vomit and pokes at what’s left of the rope circle with the Flaming Poisoning Raging Sword of Doom. It falls to pieces at the first touch and, yeah, maybe she should have expected that....

The bodies of the cultists they’d de-souled before the rite was completed are still mostly intact, though covered in...well. Minced cultist. Frappéd cultist. It’s all very gory, and Lup is super fucking glad Barry is not into that kind of necromancy. Some things are so far past fetish territory they can’t even see the line.

There's nothing so convenient as a slime trail to follow. Barry wishes he'd saved Arcane Eye: Verin seems to be long gone. There's a puddle of sluiced, gelatinous slime and blood outside the west edge of the ritual circle, cooking under the sun, and then no other obvious signs. Barry frowns. The drawback to traveling through portals is that he doesn't know the surrounding area at all. He can't guess where Verin might be headed.

He trails after Lup through thick, bloody mud. The soles of his boots squelch gruesomely and it's hard work to not step on more solid corpse bits. It's a pretty disgusting mess overall, he decides. Definitely in his top ten. "You okay, babe?" he calls, noticing Lup's face twist.

“Just kink-shaming super hard right now.” Lup toes another limb out of her way, ears flat against her skull. “Any luck on your end, Krav?”

Kravitz carefully examines the remains of the cultists and their ritual, unfazed by the sight of blood and gore, accustomed to it as he is after centuries of his grim profession. "Nothing we learned suggested teleportation abilities, so it's likely he's still nearby. Have the two of you experimented with your flight powers yet?"

Barry winces. "Yeah, a little," he says, deliberately vague. He doesn't especially want to remember how he flipped head-over-heels in midair before crashing into a tree and nearly concussing himself. Or repeat the performance with Lup and Kravitz watching.

"Hell yes, it was baller," Lup bounces into the air, cape swirling around her. She wobbles and nearly falls forward. Well, she's aloft and not touching the carnage around her, so all in all an improvement. "So, which direction?"

Kravitz nods to Lup. Her form isn't bad at all, considering how little time she's had to practice. "Give me a moment; let me see if I can figure it out." He reaches out for the feel of Verin's soul. A vague flash of it skates across his awareness, receding quickly towards the west. It's not exact enough to be able to teleport to his location, but it's far better than picking a random direction.

"This way," Kravitz says, pointing. Then he explodes into a crowd of ravens. He takes to the air and hovers, waiting for them to catch up. Lup isn’t as efficient at summoning ravens as Kravitz, but by sheer force of personality and cape twirling she manages to appear so. She lingers near the ground and waits for Barry to get airborne.

Barry summons ravens like someone shaking a pillowcase with a hole at one end. Black, feathery forms trickle into being unevenly, and it takes several seconds for them to accumulate numbers sufficient to lift him off the ground. Even then it's slow, awkward going. He counts his blessings when he clears the tree line. He looks more like a lab technician being kidnapped by birds than a reaper in flight and he'll probably manage the dismount about that well.

Lup rockets into the sky and passes Barry. She lets their flocks combine and tilts upside down to press a kiss to his cheek before beaming at him and shooting off after Kravitz. Letting herself have this small moment soothes away some of the feeling of rot still pressing against her skin. They haven't had a moment alone since this whole mess started. Barry speeds after her, wishing he could draw her close and return her kiss. He needs to tell her how grateful he is to fight by her side again. There's gotta be some way he can capture her radiance in words. The only thing he can think to say is that she's like a comet, except sexy. Imagining her peals of laughter brings a smile to his face. He's so buoyed by giddy affection that he relaxes into his ravens’ grip and they finally make progress catching up.

Ahead, Kravitz quickly realizes that they're heading in the direction of Neverwinter. He prays they're able to catch the demon before he reaches town. He doesn't want to picture the chaos Verin could create there.


	3. In Which Barry Deserves a Nap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reaper squad kicks some ass and heads out for downtime.

Neverwinter is just coming into view over the horizon when Kravitz spots their quarry. Verin’s striding purposefully along a dirt logging road that cuts a wide swath through the forest. His gleaming white legs eat up the distance impossibly fast. Kravitz quickly sinks towards the canopy before he’s spotted, hoping Lup and Barry follow. He feels they should probably take one more quick moment to talk before charging in.

Lup's grace in the air is inspiring. She catches up to Kravitz first and matches his pace before Barry gets close enough to spot Verin and remember his anxiety. "Shit, has he seen us yet?" he whispers, under the rustle of beating wings.

"I mean, we're kinda obvious what with the 'flock of ravens' thing...." Lup mutters back, twisting her hand around the Flaming Poisoning Raging Sword of Doom's hilt. "Should we just....drop on him? Seems like we should just drop on him… I'm gonna drop on him."

"Normally I'd take the time to read him a list of his crimes, but yes, in this case I think just dropping in on him would be the best plan. I just wanted to ensure the two of you were ready.” Kravitz steels himself and pushes back into the sky, quickly locating Verin and diving for him. He thinks he's caught him by surprise, but at the last moment, before he collides with his foe, a wave of slime slams into him and sends him reeling backward. Ravens scatter in all directions as Kravitz hits the ground with a loud thud.

"Nice of you to drop in," Verin says. He snakes an arm out and catches one of Kravitz's ravens. They're magical constructs, but Barry winces to see those long, pale fingers encircle its rib cage and press into its feathered head. A wide grin stretches Verin's face as his thumb pushes down and down until it melts through feather and bone and meat. The raven’s feet kick reflexively when he tosses it aside as a handful of acrid feathers and viscous slime. "Did you come back to die on your queen's bidding? She's going to use you up, little birds."

Barry swerves his flock around behind Verin and skids on the landing, jarring his knees. He sends his ravens pelting into Verin's back and beating at his head. They're an annoyance at best, but they give Barry a chance to survey the road. Empty, for the moment, though this close to Neverwinter they can't be sure that'll last. They'll have a hard time protecting anyone who stumbles onto this scene.

Verin shakes off the ravens in a spray of acid. They fall, feathers gone dull and pitted and voices croaking out indignant caws. Barry banishes them rather than watch them melt at Verin's feet. His heart kicks in his chest when Verin turns to him with a pinched frown. Barry stays close in range instead of ducking off into the trees. If he makes a target of himself then Kravitz may have a chance to get up and Lup might be able to score a big hit. He's still a lich. Worst case scenario Lup yells at him for a bit and his queen puts him on indefinite probation in the Astral Plane. Losing his last few decades alive would suck, but not nearly so much as losing his family.

Lup drops on Verin, just to the side of Kravitz, yelling in frustration as the FPR Sword skitters off his slime shield. Whipping it around, she catches the edge of his arm in a slice that makes him frown, his flesh taking a long while to pull back together.

Twirling the sword, Lup sends her own flock into a swirl around Verin’s head as she tries one more thrust.... that is also deflected.  She grinds her teeth and backs up next to Barry, sword held out in a defensive position.

Kravitz lets out a string of colorful curses as he jumps to his feet. The only injury is to his pride, but it stings quite a bit. He channels a spell and sends a shard of ice flinging in Verin's direction, but his aim is poor and it explodes onto the ground at Verin's feet. "Oh for the Queen's sake—"

Verin whips his arm and a sheet of acid cascades towards Barry and Lup. A flickering barrier appears in the air in front of them; Barry's best rendition of a shield, from lessons with Lucretia several lifetimes ago. The acid splatters against it, hissing as it collapses into rivulets and gobs of ruined magic. Droplets pepper Barry's gloved, supporting palm before he can pull back. He winces at the heat of the fine mist eating through rubber.

Instead of wiping it on his jeans, he slams his hand into the ground. The dirt beneath his fingers goes slick and shiny with frost. Rapidly advancing, the sheet of ice slips beneath Verin's feet and bursts upward as hundreds of flying needles. He fumbles his footing as the icy needles bite into his calves and thighs, scoring wet lines across his skin and tearing at his robe. The flying shards eclipse him for a moment. When they fall, his arms are thrown protectively across his face. He lowers them slowly, fixing Barry with a poisonous glare. His gaze flashes opalescent and the last thing Barry's aware of is the weight of iron against his temples.

“BABE!” Lup points her ring at Verin’s face, an icy blue ray aimed for between his eyes. It glances off, but he turns to her, teeth bared in a smile. She throws a look at Barry and the twisted crown materializing on his head, not wanting to hurt him, and runs through her holding spells as she aims the ring again  “Pew, pew, motherfucker!“ This one gets Verin solidly in the throat, and Lup focuses it for a half second longer, distracted by her rage.

A burning anger builds in Kravitz. Barry’s immobile, face slack and palms open as Verin’s magic plays behind his eyes. Kravitz’s cloak flares out around him. He is fucking _done_ with this bastard. This has gone on for long enough. "Your time is up demon, this ends here!"

Kravitz forgot to use his accent but he's beyond caring. He swipes a hand down the head of his scythe, leaving a trail of frost crackling along the blade. And then he swings, catching Verin in the back as he stumbles from Lup’s blow to his throat, slicing through his slimy exterior and spilling dark blood onto the dusty road.

A sick, bubbling sound issues from Verin's throat as blood slops down his milk-pale chest and soaks into the ground. He bends and grabs for Kravitz’s scythe, but his fingers slide wetly off it and he's forced to double over. He gasps twice, air whistling through the rent in his neck even as he straightens back up to his full height. "Kill him," he rasps, torn skin already gummed together and shiny under congealing slime. **_"Cast.”_**

The magic under Verin's voice strikes the iron crown digging into Barry's temples and rings it like a bell. His eyes glint wildly, darting across Kravitz and Lup without taking in their faces. Necrotic energy courses from his pointed finger as he levels it at Kravitz. Finger of Death isn't a spell he ever planned to cast again—is near the top of his banned list, in fact—but he never stopped thinking of it as one of his deadliest options, and that's exactly the power Verin’s commanded.

Lup turns, feeling like the world is moving in slow motion as Barry’s finger rises. Snarling something incoherent, she covers the ground between them in two strides, slamming into him with all her weight. Gripping his wrists, she howls in his face, "Don't you even FUCKING DARE, BARRY J. BLUEJEANS!"

Barry's eyes don't even flicker, but he can't wrench his hands free from Lup's grasp or wriggle out from under her. "Target her!" Verin shouts, scrambling away from Kravitz. "Kill them both!"

Kravitz's triumph over finally hurting Verin in a significant way is immediately lost when he sees the scene going on behind him. He's not going to let this happen, he refuses. Barry and Lup are under his care and neither of them is going to die. He slams the butt of his scythe into the ground, grabs a raven feather from inside his cloak, and holds it close to his chest as he prays.

An echoing caw fills the air all around them and out of the sky a raven descends, diving on Barry and grasping the iron crown in its claws. It wretches it free from his head, leaving bloody marks where it had dug into his flesh but freeing him from its influence. With a final caw, both raven and crown disappear into a puff of black smoke, blown away by a gentle wind.

Lup stays on top of Barry until his eyes focus on hers. She allows herself a single kiss before scrambling to her feet and twirling her scythe at Verin, snarling. "That's my man you've touched—"

Clapping her hand to the head of her scythe, she conjures a clear diamond and throws it at Verin. The gem shimmers, ripples, and appears to multiply in the air until it hits Verin's chest, wrapping a tomb of ice around him.

A chill seeps across the ground and into Barry’s skin, dispelling the warmth left from Lup's kiss. His scalp prickles with the heat of fresh blood dripping into his hair. With a groan, he pushes his glasses up his nose and flops over onto his stomach. Vertigo seizes him. He screws his face against it, vision swimming with the fractal image of light shining on crystalline ice. He blinks away tears.

With shaking arms, he shoves himself to his knees. The echo of Verin's voice still rings in his ears, the demand that he kill his wife played over and over. He's infinitely grateful that she's so much stronger than him. He takes a deep, calming breath, dizzy with relief, and the ringing resolves into the soft creaks and groans of cracking ice.

The edges of Verin's icy tomb are limned with glacial blue and green reflecting from the trees and sky above. But, like a silk-wrapped worm, his body lies cocooned in opaque white at its center. There's a moment where the road's completely still, with no movement besides the roll of cold air and no sound except the thunder of Barry's pulse in his ears.

Then the white spreads. The ice fogs from within, clouded by the inexorable seep of fresh acid. Cracks sound like gunshots. Chunks of ice shear from the sides and crash into the pavement. Barry covers his face in time for a spray of mist and ice shards to bounce off his arms. Howling, Verin lurches out of the shattered ice. Slime runs thickly from his body, slopping in rivulets of deep red and poisonous green to hiss against the ice and rise back up as acrid steam. His raised arm shakes, but he locks his elbow and sweeps another wave of acid towards them, a roiling mass flecked by dirt and chips of melting pebbles.

Kravitz only barely manages to pull his scythe out of the ground and dodge out of the way, drops of acid singeing his cloak and burning holes through the fabric. He spares a handful of seconds looking over his charges to make sure they’re reasonably safe before he turns his attention to Verin, emboldened by his clearly injured state.

Kravitz takes to the skies, summoning spectral ravens to hoist him into the air and send him careening toward Verin. He swings his scythe, catching the demon's outstretched hand and severing it from his body with a sickening squelch. Acid and gore sprays from the wound and Kravitz finds himself thankful for the gloves Barry thought to provide.

Verin screams, a terrible, guttural sound that shakes the ground around them.

The ice is making it tricky to find good footing. Lup keeps her stance wide as she stays between Verin and Barry until Barry is back on his feet. Seeing an ice chip starting to melt into the dust of the road, inspiration strikes. She scoops a handful of mud up, pressing it into her hand until it’s coated. Calling up her power, she thinks hard at the mud, reminding it of a time when all earth was the same earth, all land knew each other, and surely it could be like that again? Especially in the shape of a fist, right there, right now!

The hand of earth bursts out of the road, snatching Verin and squeezing him till his unneeded breath pops out of his lungs.

Verin's in a bad way. Barry's not sure if they can kill him for good just by destroying his body on this plane. Kravitz and Lup have hit him hard enough that he won’t be back in a hurry, though. And seeing his skull cave under his smug face would be satisfying, Barry thinks savagely, mopping at the blood trickling from his temples. Verin's trying to garble something, some bribe or threat or invective, but he can't draw air into his crushed lungs. There's nothing worthwhile he could say anyway.

Merle's clockwork owl blinks with a soft whir when Barry pulls it out of his cloak. He knows he got his ass handed to him today. He's not fast or strong enough to make up for having his most powerful magic proscribed. He's a lich and the best necromancer on a dozen planes: he could be devastating, if he wanted. But he doesn’t. What he wants is to go home and cuddle his wife and watch TV and eat an entire can of Fantasy Pringles.

He doesn't need the power to conquer demons alone. He doesn't have to do anything alone. "Hey buddy," he says, pointing the owl at Verin. "Low power, ‘kay? Lowest spell slot. Don't break Lup's stone hand." The living grimoire cheeps and pale blue rays froth from its mouth, spilling across the pavement and creeping up Verin's body. It's almost gentle, but Verin thrashes impotently instead of lying in repose. Until the ice settles so thickly on the stone that he's totally entrapped.

This is it, Kravitz can feel it. He calls again on the power of his Goddess, the ancient contract filling his being with strength beyond mortal limitations. Sleek, black, feathery wings spring from his back, seeming to meld with his cloak rather than tearing through it, and his eyes burn a bright, fiery red in their sockets. He opens his mouth and out comes the sound of a thousand ravens cawing in unison. He's ready.

Kravitz surges forward with incredible speed, appearing to teleport to anyone not paying close enough attention. His scythe leaves a trail of black feathers in its wake as he swings for Verin's midsection, exposed and immobile thanks to the combined efforts of Lup and Barry. The blade passes through him like water, and for a moment it looks as though it had no effect. Then a dark slash appears across Verin's sickly flesh, the skin slowly peeling away and turning to ash as he lets out one final, terrible scream. Lup's stone hand suddenly clenches shut as the rest of his body explodes into ash, littering the ground beneath them as harmlessly as an extinguished campfire.

“FUCK YEAH!” Lup jumps in the air, floating for a moment as she punches both fists up. “THAT’S HOW WE DO!”

"Oh thank fuck," Barry says, slumping. "Good one, boss." Between the bleeding divots on his face and the blisters across his back he feels like he needs to take a bath and sleep for a couple days.

Once it's clear the threat has been neutralized, Kravitz's appearance quickly reverts back to normal, wings disappearing into his cloak and skin regrowing over bone. He moves swiftly over to Lup and Barry, brow knit with concern. "Are you both all right? I'm sorry Barry, I didn't realize removing the spell in that way would be quite so violent."

Lup turns to Barry instantly, ears flared forward in concern. “Yeah I’m fine, asshole didn’t hardly touch me, babe how you doing?” Not bothering about the mud and trampled road, she plops down next to him, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

"Ow," Barry says, flinching. He shrugs Lup's arm off and then snakes an arm around her waist so she can't get away. "I'll be great after I...get the rest of the day off? Please?" He directs an imploring look at Kravitz, hoping the dried blood on his face looks convincingly gruesome. They just took down a _demon_. Paperwork can sit and spin.

Kravitz sighs and nods. "Yes, I do believe you've both earned a break after that. You performed a task above and beyond what was expected of you, which will be noted in your quarterly review." He remembers the gloves and goggles, using a quick Prestidigitation to clean off the unsightly acid goop before pulling them off and holding them out for Barry. "Thank you for letting me borrow these. Extremely unfashionable, but effective."

Lup giggles, reaching up to take the gloves and goggles so Barry doesn’t need to move yet. “That was a fuckin’ awesome final boss attack, Skeletor. Can you teach me that one?” Easing her arm under Barry’s, she pulls her feet under her and cheats slightly with a minor levitation to get him standing.

Kravitz puffs up his chest and stands a little straighter, his pride at the compliment clearly showing through. "I can show you how to more finely control the power the Raven Queen has granted you, but don't be disappointed if it takes a few centuries to master something that complex."

He slices open a portal to Lup and Barry's home, knowing they can do it themselves but figuring it's the least he can do after the two of them were ravaged on the "beginner" mission he invited them to.

"Oh boy," Barry says, watching the fuzzy image of his couch swim into view. He didn't realize they'd set a precedent for their boss to portal directly into their home. But, to be fair, they were absolutely gonna abuse their own powers to surprise Taako whenever they felt like. And it's not as if he's ever had a job he didn't take home with him. "If that's a lesson I can get on my couch, while eating, then I guess I'm down for right now. Either way you should stick around for a while, Kravitz. We've all earned that break."

“Oh we are all showering right now, fuck paperwork—I mean, uh.” Lup glances at Kravitz and grins sheepishly. “...You could put that off for a bit? I know looking like death comes with the job, but you could also look like death while not looking like you’re covered in demon goop.”

Kravitz glances down at his goop-covered suit with a small frown. "I could just reform myself, but a shower does sound good about now. It would probably make more sense for me to return home for that, though Taako might kill me of he finds out I got 'demon goop' in his shower..."

Lup rolls her eyes and shoves under Kravitz’s shoulder, pushing him through the portal and dragging Barry with her. “This is why we have a guest bathroom, Krav.”

They pile through the portal, Barry propelled by Lup more than his own feet, and are brought up short by a metallic squeaking noise from the direction of the kitchen.

Barry pivots to face the sound. Magnus waves a hand in his dumbstruck face. He's swiveling side-to-side on the barstool with his boots hooked over the rungs. Taako's seated next to him, legs crossed around the gallon of ice cream in his lap. It's Lup's favorite. He's going at it with a spoon. A telltale clinking sounds from the liquor cabinet on the other side of the counter. "Is that them? Ask 'em why they don't own good mixers!" Merle calls.

Taako shoves a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. He scrutinizes Kravitz with the handle bobbing up and down between his lips, then yanks the spoon out with a wet pop. "Gotta say, Bones, I'm not really loving the new look. Very... _mmm, moist."_

Kravitz blinks in surprise at the unexpected company and his expression quickly turns into a smile. He's suddenly very glad he gave the gloves and goggles back already. Taako would never let him live it down if he saw him wearing those. "Taako, babe, I didn't expect to see you here!" He opens his arms and moves toward him as if to give him a hug, goopy clothes and all.

Lup lowers Barry to the floor and marches over to snatch the ice cream out of Taako’s hands. “This is fuckin’ peanut butter moose tracks, babe, you are going to swell up like a balloon!” Striding into the kitchen, she chucks it into the freezer and opens the fridge, shoving a ginger ale at Merle. “There’s no shitty mixers because I like dark and stormies, old man.”

Magnus scoots his stool back from the bedlam converging on Taako. Just as Kravitz's arms come to close around his boyfriend, Taako vanishes from the material plane, reappearing seconds later on the other side of the kitchen and glaring daggers at Kravitz. Kravitz laughs and puts a hand over his heart in mock offense.

Magnus gives Barry a concerned look—Barry just leans back against the couch and shrugs, content to watch the chaos unfold—and then spots the Flaming Poisoning Raging Sword of Doom on Lup’s hip. "Hey, what were you using my sword for? You know, I didn't want to believe Taako here, when he said you guys probably took it—"

"Of course I was right," Taako scoffs. "I told you, Lup asked me for my frosty ring. Don't need the boy detective for this one."

"Aw, were you guys monster-hunting without us?" Magnus pouts. "Also? Give me my sword back." Taako coughs something that sounds like 'my sword', but could just be the peanut butter kicking in.

"I promise your objects of power are all perfectly fine,” Kravitz says. “Though given how your treat them, I'm honestly surprised you noticed."

Lup wanders back to flop on the couch next to Barry. Merle comes over with a glass for her, sipping his own. “It wasn’t monsters, it was a demon, and he was an asshole.” She unstraps the Flaming Poisoning Raging Sword of Doom and tosses it in Magnus’s lap. “Even that sword barely touched him. It sucked.”

Magnus yelps and scrambles to hug the sword before it slides off his lap. "Lup, this sword does like twenty base damage! Even against a demon I'd think you'd only have trouble if you were doing something wrong! Let us help next time?"

Barry doesn't like the considering look Merle's giving him. He hunches over and shifts his legs to obscure the owl-shaped lump under his cloak.

“Not if he’s resistant to fire and poison and slashing? I think? Dude was OH PEE.” Lup throws back a swallow of her drink and points at Kravitz. “Bathroom, please. Stop dripping demon gunk on my nice hardwood.”

Kravitz frowns slightly as he looks over at Barry, dripping just as much ‘demon gunk’ as he is and not getting yelled at for it, but opts not to comment. "You were the one who invited me over," he grumbles, but heads to the guest bathroom all the same. Let Lup and Barry deal with the rowdy boys.

"Sorry, Kravitz!" Barry calls. He's not that sorry. He loves Lup's blatant favoritism.

Taako rolls his eyes at him. "'Objects of power', huh?" he muses, tapping his chin. "Lup, my dear sweet favorite sister, I'm gonna check on my boyfriend," with this he starts a rapid retreat down the hallway after Kravitz, "and when we come out you better be ready to confess to all your thievin’ crimes!"

"What the hell, did you guys rob me too?!" Merle bursts out, stabbing a finger at Barry. "You're tearing this family apart!"

The mechanical owl cheeps faintly. Barry hunches over and muffles its sharp little beak against his stomach. "I bet you couldn't even guess what I took! If I did take anything. Which, uh, I'm going to say I didn't. This scenario's a hypothetical."

Lup throws up her hands, “BORROWED! We borrowed some shit you guys don’t even use to keep the world from being—actually, he probably wouldn’t have taken over the WHOLE world, just made a fuckin’ mess and killed a lot of folks, but we stopped it by borrowing some of your adventuring loot! We made it feel useful!”

"But Lup," Magnus intones. He claps his hands on her shoulders and stares soulfully into her eyes. "You could've borrowed us. Three hardened warriors! Well, a warrior, a wizard, and whatever Merle is. The point is, you could've had the whole package!"

"Hang on, let's get back to what Barry here _stole_ from me," Merle says. He prods Barry's back, right in the middle of his inflamed blisters. Barry sucks in a harsh breath. "Whatcha hiding, kid?"

“This was a time-of-the-essence sort of thing, Maggie, and you three chucklefucks—“ Lup spins around to bat at Merle’s hand. “OY! What kinda cleric are you!”

"The kind without x-ray vision!" Merle says. He grabs Barry's cloak collar at the back of his neck and tugs. "Tell you what, Barry: I'll throw you some heals if you gimme my shit back."

"Will you? Will you, really?" Barry gripes, twisting away from Merle's hand.

“Hey!” Lup exclaims, suddenly aware of all the demon slime on her couch and how Merle is spreading it. “It’s like five in the afternoon, how many spell slots do you have left?”

"Oh shit, it's already five? I'm hungry!" Magnus announces.

Barry gives up. He vanishes his cloak from his shoulders, unspooling the fabric into black mist. He hopes it sticks in Merle’s beard. "I can't fuckin' believe I didn't get _one day_ with this thing," he says, holding up the mechanical owl with the hand Merle's—hopefully unnoticed—ring is on.

"Aw, it's—what's this guy's name again? M...Ma—Maddie?"

"Why would I know his name when you don’t?! He was under your laundry, you're not even using him—" Barry scoots a few inches away and finds that banishing his cloak did not banish the slime. It just left a ring of drying gooze around him...and across the upholstery...

"Well, alright, I'll let you cuddle him while I fix you up. Hold still for a minute," Merle says, plucking at his shirt. Barry winces. The fabric feels like it's crusted into his blisters.

Merle pulls his bible out of one of his cargo shorts’ pockets—Barry's actually envious, that's some good storage—and flips it open. "Alright, by Pan's word, I heal thee!" he proclaims, leaning straight into the most clichéd prayer possible.

The raw, scraped-open feel of his back vanishes, leaving room for him to realize how gross he is. Why the heck did they let Kravitz shower first? "Thanks," he says. Merle makes grabby hands for his owl. Barry gives a long-suffering sigh and hands it over.

Magnus makes puppy-eyes at Lup, openly begging. Lup flips him off automatically, but she’s feeling hungry too. They’d need to shower before they cook food and she is in NO mood to make the amount needed for this lot. “Fine, I’ll call something in, and all y’all can eat us out of house and home in return for us not taking you demon hunting, deal? Babe, go use the upstairs shower, I’ll wait for Krav.”

As if on cue, Kravitz wanders back into the room, hair wet but newly-manifested suit dry. Taako is just behind him, tossing out a casual, "Lup, your shower is too small. And you'd better be calling the good takeout place—these clowns won't know the difference, but if I'm eating bad food I want _good_ bad food."

Kravitz smiles at Lup and Barry. "Thank you for letting me use your shower, I did my best not to leave behind anything caustic."

Magnus wolf-whistles. Barry raises his eyes heavenwards and groans. "I was about to come get you guys cos I knew Taako'd have opinions about takeout, but I do not wanna hear anything about the—the shower being too small, that's the good shower, and also I don't wanna know."

Taako's lips curl with impish delight. "Turnabout's fair play, my man. Lemme tell you a story about all the _thousands_ of times you and my sister TMI'd me."

Merle's eyes light up and he opens his mouth. "Nope. Nope, hell no," Barry says, talking over him. Then he uses mage-hand to pluck a takeout menu off the fridge. He flings it at Taako’s head and flees for the stairs. He knows Taako was probably just helping Kravitz wash slime out of his hair and that he'd drop the goof if it really did bother Barry. If he was honest with himself, he’d confess that he's excited to have the boys here for dinner. But today he's been sprayed with acid, slimed, and mind-controlled. He needs a break and a shower before he's up to dealing with company.

They came way too close to losing. They only won that fight by working together, under the aegis of the Raven Queen. It feels weird to be in awe of Kravitz after giving him the runaround so many times. Barry hadn't realized how vulnerable he’s become. But he doesn't regret giving up his lich powers and necromancy for a moment. Lup and the boys, Kravitz—they're going to be waiting downstairs with hot food when he's ready. They'll have each other's backs no matter what comes their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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